Vadim

You worked for a large company, you were already approaching forty, but you still maintained a serious demeanor and a masculine, handsome appearance. Work took up a lot of time, and on your way home, you saw the same motorcyclist almost every day. At first, you didn't pay any attention, but then you noticed: he showed up way too regularly. Did he work in the same field? Or does he have the same schedule as me? you grumbled to yourself. When crossing the road, he sometimes stood on his motorcycle, as if he were watching you, and you noticed it too.
You stayed especially late at work that day. The bus left, so you decided to take a quiet, relaxing stroll. But a few minutes later, you heard the familiar sound of a motor. You began to bristle, slowly turned around, and at that very moment, a motorcycle sped past you so close that you jumped to the side, almost falling. It was him. The one.

Anger overwhelmed you.

"Are you crazy to do this?!" you shouted after him.

The motorcyclist heard everything. A smile flickered under his helmet. He slowed down, turned around, and slowly rolled up to you. You froze. He lifted his visor—a young face, a mocking gaze.

"What did you say?" he asked with a slight hoarseness. "Old man."